


Centipede Camp 298

by ferggirl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda May is not one to walk away from those who cannot save themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Centipede Camp 298

"Well _shit._ ”

Skye’s face paled as she watched the security camera footage go live, standing next to Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons in the Bus lab. Ward was stationed by the door of the building, with May infiltrating what they'd understood to be the secret compound’s westernmost warehouse in search of evidence to prove to Director Fury that Centipede was alive and still a threat. 

She felt Jemma’s hand close over her arm in panic. ”How did we not plan for this? We planned for  _everything._ But not this.” 

On the split screen, Ward scowled up at the security camera and pointed to his comm. He very clearly mouthed “what is happening” as he pulled the stolen uniform’s cap lower over his eyes. 

It was Skye who found her voice first.

"Uh, Ward? It’s not a warehouse - but don’t go in guns blazing!" she hurried to add when he drew and pivoted toward the door.

"Agent May is fine," Jemma said nervously. "That is, she’s in no immediate danger from the… we just, they must have recently changed uses for that building and not updated their computer systems."

Another patrol walked by and Ward nodded, relaxing into his post. When the coast was clear, he turned back to the camera. This time he spoke. 

"May. Status. NOW."

******

She had gone in sure it was going to be a cakewalk. A quick in and out, snatch and grab mission with no need to engage or raise alarms. 

She was in her catsuit, with one of the stolen uniforms tugged over to better blend in. She and Ward quietly disabled the guard, and then she went through the door. Her first job was to plug in the device that would allow the techs to piggyback off the internal security cameras. The blinking red light in the nondescript hallway confirmed that it was active, and Fitz agreed via comms that they should have a picture in a few minutes.

Melinda headed for the first door, then froze. It was labeled “Classroom 104.”

_Classroom?_

Simmons confirmed that blueprints indicated there should be storage in the next three rooms, and Melinda put her worry to the side. Stranger uses had been found for old school buildings. 

But when she went through the door, she was met by 15 pairs of wide, frightened eyes.

_Oh hell._

******

Jemma was casting about for an answer to Ward’s demand when May finally, casually reached up and flicked on her comm midsentence. 

"…and so today, we’re going to talk about safety. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Richards?"

Coulson had joined them in the lab, called frantically down by Skye, and they all watched as the teacher edged toward May and her smiling calm. She squinted at the name patch and pasted an agreeable look over her obvious surprise. "Well, yes, safety is very important, class. Let’s all write down three things about safety while I talk to Sergeant, uh, Holt here." Then her voice dropped to a stage whisper. "I wasn’t expecting a visit until next week, Sergeant."

May just stared impassively at the frazzled teacher, and when she continued, Richards was clearly uneasy. 

"I can rearrange, surely, but why has the schedule been changed? Routine is key if we’re to condition young soldiers."

Jemma felt ill, watching the eager 8-year-olds writing on their wide-lined paper. 

"It’s a recruitment camp," Coulson said grimly. 

"Ms. Richards, how many classrooms are there in this building?" May snapped out.

"Why, seven, as you well know."

Fitz jumped for the blueprints, and Jemma turned to help him, pinpointing other rooms that could be large enough to hold children and marking them with a digital red flag. 

"Indeed. And how many of their teachers have military training?"

"We were told explicitly to keep the classroom as nonthreatening as possible, soldiers are to be outside forces," Richards hissed.

"Then perhaps you would let command make the decisions about when and where you are visited. Please provide your class list."

The woman reluctantly handed it over, and May took her time, reading each name and asking them to read their three items to her. Skye opened searches as each name was read, and the mood in the Bus got darker as every missing child report popped up to match the name or the grainy face. 

When she was done, May nodded to the teacher and spun on her heel, marching out of the classroom and straight back out of the building. Ward fell into step beside her. Neither one spoke. 

Her face was like thunder. 

Coulson met them at the ramp. 

"Skye’s already located 17 reports of missing children," he said. "Some runaways, some abductions."

"We’re not leaving," she warned, shedding the uniform and leaving it crumpled on the floor of the cargo bay. "Not until we free them all."

******

When the camp was a smoking pile of rubble and all 182 children had been loaded onto SHIELD buses with child psychologists for debriefing and processing, Skye found her, standing over Ms. Richard’s body in classroom 104. There was a high-powered rifle next to the woman, and blood on May's hands. 

"So many kids." Skye shook her head in disbelief, watching the buses pull away under guard. "How could we not have realized?"

"They want an army. We made it difficult to procure what they needed to build one out of men." May rolled the dead woman onto her back and eyed the froth around her mouth from the cyanide pill. "So they decided to grow one from children."

"I know it’s different," Skye murmured. "They’re not me. But I can’t help thinking about how alone and scared they must have felt. Probably still do. They had no one."

"They had us," May said, turning to the door. "That’s all some kids get, in the end."

******

The letters were sporadic at first, but they increased as time went on. The emails were poorly spelled and often had flashing gifs and brightly colored text.

When Skye went to Coulson, concerned that May had contracted some strange email virus, he smiled and shook his head. Then he handed her a memo and suggested she share it with the rest of the team.

> _Attn: Agent Dave Barry,_
> 
> _I herein enclose the text of a note that, with Director Fury’s approval, must be provided to every child rescued from Centipede Camp 298. Please note that failure to do so will result in a downgrade of your clearance by several levels and a reassignment to which I will personally escort you._
> 
> _Melinda May_

The next time they touched down for a day off, the rest of the team stayed in. Fitz carried in a stack of mail addressed to Agent Melinda May in childish handwriting, while Skye wrote a filter to direct email from any of the 182 names to a side account.

They helped her answer every one. Her answers were short. Factual. She never backed away from the questions. They hung the pictures, crayon depictions of a woman in black against a fiery background, in the lounge. 

Their first classroom visit, the 8-year-old who had invited them cried when she saw May. Then she hugged her and took her by the hand, leading her to face the other children. 

"And this is my hero," Evelyn Gray told her astonished classmates. "She saved my life and killed the bad guys."

Skye got it on video, and every now and then, after a particularly brutal mission, she would notice May bent over one of the screens, watching Evelyn drag her to stand in front of the class.

Eventually the flood of emails slowed to a trickle, and May could handle them by herself again. She didn’t talk about it and only thanked them perfunctorily for their help.

Every few weeks, though, a new picture would appear taped up in the lounge. The team never brought it up, but each made sure to check the name added to the bottom.

They wanted to keep tabs on May’s kids, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Developed from a prompt "May being motherly."


End file.
